by Rick Young | May 16, 2020 | Story
Another watchdog had to go.
He sniffed around Mike Pompeo.
Big Pharma will make our vaccine.
The king is dead. God save the queen.
Pelosi got her aid bill passed.
Tomorrow morning, she’ll be gassed.
Grocery prices on the rise.
Next year, this time: Catsup Surprise!
Space Force has a brand new flag,
“super duper missile” tag.
JCPenney goes asunder.
How’d it stay so long’s the wonder.
Bag pollution’s back in style.
Eco just walked the green mile.
All rules off, all laws contested.
B. Hussein must be arrested.
Lock ’em up or kill ’em all.
Twenty-twenty on the wall.
by Rick Young | May 15, 2020 | Poem
It’s hurricane season and things could get pretty wet.
The felt tip forecaster pronounced Kansas a good bet.
It’s hit the beaches season and soon they’ll be overrun.
Despite the social warnings, some will, sadly, become chum.
It’s sharks amongst us season and, so, when you see a fin,
swim your ass toward safer shores, ’cause you ain’t gonna win.
It’s go to deadly work now season, first we’ve ever seen.
Does this all end up with marches? Or was that a dream?
by Rick Young | May 13, 2020 | Poetry
William Barr’s a tool of the game Monopoly.
He’s become the reigning king of “Get Out of Jail Free.”
He’s destroyed the last vestige of our democracy.
Law’s a joke. Order’s bespoke. There’s no land of the free.
In Canada, this would be a game misconduct penalty.
O, Canada, again to you we’ll flee,
just like we did in a low point in history.
That’s not to infer Vietnam was all that tragic.
Trump broke their death record.
It just disappeared like magic.
William Barr has gone too far, but that has been his way.
Unmitigated tool he’s been since his appointment day.
Now he’s assembled the A Team of released guilty crooks,
who all can work with Russia to cook the election books.
We’re all doomed. The world’s mushroomed. Just hang us out on hooks.
O, Jesus, how did you not know the devil had come back?
How did you miss the anguished cries of those stretched on the rack?
A brazen white dictator builds a crazed symbolic wall
to divide those who will live from those who have to fall.
If you can’t step in here, man, then good God save us all.
by Rick Young | May 10, 2020 | Poem
Happy Mother’s Day to all the mothers still alive,
those who weren’t sent under by our president’s deep dive.
And sorry, too, to any mothers out there who lost sons,
whether it’s to tiny germs or giant army guns.
Would have liked to send out to the store and get some flowers,
but, for reasons unforeseen, they’re keeping summer hours.
Would have loved to buy her the best chocolates or a car,
but she’ll have to settle for Airwick and a Mars bar.
Special wishes also to those mothers who are nurses.
For your work, may you all be rewarded with fat purses.
And mothers who have lost their jobs or teaching kids at home,
may love and patience get you through this time of Blunder Dome.
by Rick Young | May 8, 2020 | Poem
Saw Barr’s latest fractured fairy tale,
letting one more bad guy out of jail.
Flynn insures us lies can win,
with the blessings of Putin.
Donnie got right on the horn,
told Vlad a new star is born.
Manafort and Stone now wait
for their coming open gate.
It’s a stone cold Barr procession,
all bets off on all confession.
Liars, schemers, cons and grifters
loosed on Broadway with the Drifters.
Both FOX and the Christian right
will be getting tight tonight.
Russia’s now our friend again.
New beginning of the end.
